Marilyn Zwicker
My kitchen is cluttered
Cookie sheets
Cooling racks
Dozens of little sweets
A reception
Reunion of grief
We do this whenever
Death visits
Set up tables
White tablecloths
Flowers
Various treats
Carefully arranged
White doilies
Pretty plates
It’s a glimpse
Into a future
For which I cannot plan
Someday that box
Draped with white linen
Will be my body
Soon to be scattered
Over the hill
A plaque with my name
Will be surrounded
By memorials to friends
Whose ashes mine will join
Others will make and arrange
Funeral meats
Knowing this
I relax into belonging
